first?’
I smiled. ‘How are you doing, Heather?’
‘Not so bad, thank you for asking.’
I lowered my voice. ‘About the other night…’
She put a finger to her lips. ‘Ssshhh. Let’s not talk about that.’
I didn’t know whether she meant the tears or the kiss. I wanted to talk about both. Maybe I’d been living in America for too long and had picked up too many foreign ways, but I was quickly remembering that Yorkshiremen don’t talk about things like that. About anything emotional, for that matter. Yorkshirewomen neither, it seemed. ‘Whatever you say.’
We sipped our wine in silence for a while, not exactly tense, but not comfortable, either. Conversations and laughter ebbed and flowed around us. Heather gestured over to the movie theatres behind me. ‘Did you notice what’s playing?’
I shook my head. It had been dark and raining, and I hadn’t bothered to look.
‘ Death Knows My Name,’ she said.
I put my hands to my head and groaned. ‘Oh, my God, no.’ It was the most recent movie Dave and I had done together, a couple of biggish names, including Dave’s wife Melissa, a bunch of young hopefuls, and a very old- fashioned score to suit an old-fashioned atmospheric thriller. There were chases, love scenes, fear, panic, creepy moments, sudden reversals, unexpected climaxes, all mirrored in the music. It wasn’t exactly done by rote, but it hadn’t taken a great deal of originality or soul-searching. Which was just as well, as I hadn’t been able to muster any originality or soul-searching in the months after Laura’s death, when I had written it. Definitely not one of my favourites, but as it happened, it was a big hit. The American public had seemed to enjoy it, and it had done extremely well at the box office. It had only just been released in the UK.
‘Maybe we can go and see it after dinner?’ Heather said.
‘What?’
‘You know. Go to the movies. Me and you. Sit on the back row and neck.’
I must have blushed because she laughed and touched my arm. ‘Don’t worry. I’m only teasing. I won’t molest you. I just think it would be really cool to go and see a movie with the guy who wrote the music, that’s all. Won’t you indulge me? Just this once.’
‘I’ve already seen it.’
‘Chris, please?’
The way her green eyes were imploring me as she spoke, I couldn’t find it in myself to say no. I already knew that my own opinions of my work often didn’t match those of the public or the critics, or even my friends, so there was no sense in telling her it wasn’t a movie I was especially proud of. I’d get through it somehow. ‘Sure,’ I said, and smiled at her. Our food arrived. ‘As long as you actually listen to the music. There’ll be a test afterwards. Now, tell me what you’ve discovered.’
‘I had lunch with Michael Simak,’ she said, wrinkling her nose. ‘I thought it might be easier than after-work drinks… you know… they can sometimes lead to dinner and…’ She shrugged.
‘And dinner can lead to?’
‘You know what.’
‘Movies?’
Heather laughed and dug her fork into the salad. ‘That’s it. Movies. Or the expectation of movies. Anyway, I managed to get away with my virtue intact, you’ll be glad to hear.’
I laughed. One of the things I liked about Heather, I realised, was that she made me laugh. Laura was the only other woman I had known who had been able to do that. Conventional wisdom has it that women like men who make them laugh, but I can vouch that it works the other way, too. ‘I didn’t doubt it for a moment,’ I said. ‘But did you get any useful information? Did he give up the goods for a… for a what?’
‘A pint of Stella? Not exactly, but he gave me enough to make one or two further enquiries of my own. That’s how I spent most of my afternoon. Michael’s firm has handled the Fox family’s affairs for ever, and I know one or two of their retired partners and associates. It’s a small town, and I’ve been around here long enough to be a pretty good information hound, you know.’
‘I’m sure you have. What exactly did you dig out?’
‘Ooh, look. My glass is empty and it’s a long story.’
So was mine. I poured us both a refill. ‘Did you find out who owned Kilnsgate House?’ I asked.
‘Yes, I did. And I think you’ll find it very interesting indeed.’
I pushed my almost empty plate away. ‘Go on.’
Heather leaned forward, excited by the story she was about to tell. The childlike enthusiasm in her expression, her hand gestures and her eyes were infectious. I leaned forward too, and it seemed as if an invisible canopy formed over us, and the rest of the world was somehow out there and couldn’t get in. Luckily, this was Yorkshire, so we didn’t have to worry about waiters coming over every five minutes to ask whether everything was all right with our meals.
‘Well, you know that Grace and Ernest’s son was called Randolph? Randolph Fox.’
I nodded.
‘He’d just turned seven when his father died. He was in the house at the time but was deemed too young to give evidence in court. The police talked to him, but he had nothing to tell them. He slept through it all.’
‘You paid a whole pint of Stella for this?’
‘No, this is what I dug out myself, later. Idiot. I’m trying to piece it all together in chronological order. I’m telling a story. Do you want to hear it or not?’
‘Of course. Sorry.’
‘During the trial and the period leading up to Grace’s execution, Randolph stayed with his aunt and uncle, Felicity and Alfred Middleton. Felicity was Grace’s younger sister by seven years. They couldn’t have any children of their own, and had always liked young Randolph, so after Grace was… well, you know… hanged… the necessary arrangements were made.’
‘Felicity and Alfred adopted Randolph Fox?’
‘Yes. Loved him as their own. He became Randolph Middleton. They lived in Canterbury. Alfred Middleton was an architect. He made a decent living. Felicity was what they used to call a housewife. The boy had every advantage.’
‘I’m sure it was a good life for him. What happened?’
‘Opportunity knocked. Alfred worked on a project for his firm that took him to Melbourne. He fell in love with the place and the possibilities there, and they offered him a job at the branch. This would be the late fifties, when Randolph was thirteen or fourteen.’
‘Aha,’ I said. ‘You really are demonstrating excellent detective skills.’
‘Thank you, Watson.’ Heather slugged back some wine. ‘Anyway, it must have been quite an upheaval for him. My parents moved from Harrogate to Richmond when I was twelve, and that was traumatic enough. Imagine starting a new school in another country at that age, with a funny accent.’
‘He got picked on, bullied?’
‘Apparently he gave as good as he got, and he soon managed to fit in. The family never mentioned their lives in England, and Grace Fox was never discussed. Taboo. To all intents and purposes, Randolph put his birth parents right out of his head. Felicity and Alfred became his mum and dad. The only interruption to their new life was when a reporter found out who they were and came bothering them around the time they banned hanging over here in the sixties.’
‘Wait a minute. You got all this from Michael Simak?’
Heather arched her eyebrows. ‘I cannot reveal my sources.’
‘Come on, just for me.’
‘Oh, all right. One of the retired associates visited Ralph over in Australia several times. First on estate business, then they became close friends, so he’d go over for his holidays, take his wife along. Most of it he got from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. The rest I either figured out for myself or got from Mr G.’
‘Mr G?’
‘Google. You’d be surprised what’s out there, if you know where to look.’
‘Carry on. What did they do when someone found them?’
